Dream-Made Islands

I dreamt that I
fell asleep in your
bloodstream.
Found my heart
washed up on the
shore of your palms.
Thought
“Maybe scars will be stars
and between their lines and
the compass of gravity
I’ll have no trouble finding
my way home.”

They say the moon pulls
the tides,
and oceans rock the restless.

Yet every morning,
I wake to the sun and a dry bed,
my head clouded with sand
and my ear pressed to the pillow,
waiting to hear the sound of rushing
pulses.

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